


Interruptions

by bhaer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Canon Era, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bhaer/pseuds/bhaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme fill. Enjolras walks in on Combeferre during a personal moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Enjolras walks in on his best friend masturbating and is surprised that Combeferre has any interest in such things. Combeferre is embarrassed that Enjolras catches him like that, but defends himself saying that sex/ masturbation is perfectly fine if you know how to do it. Enjolras does't believe him. Combeferre is willing to prove his point."
> 
> Not exactly what it says on the tin, but does include Combeferre jacking off and Enjolras watching.

Combeferre considered himself an optimistic person. He had his occasional bought of melancholy, of course, but on a daily basis he prided himself on maintaining an even, cheerful mood even in the worst of circumstances.

It was not one of those days.

One of Combeferre’s favorite patients, a young girl who, against all odds, seemed to be actively recovering for the dreaded cholera, took a turn for the worse. One moment she was his medical miracle, then she was suddenly feverish and within two hours, she was dead. It was a shock and for the first time since the early days of his internship, Combeferre found an abandoned broom closet and sobbed heartily through lunch.

Unfortunately, this meant that three hours into a grueling dissection lab, surrounded by the smell of decay, Combeferre was starving. He bit the inside of his lip, tried to ignore the feeling, and counted the minutes until class ended. He almost made it out without further mishap, until some idiot first year medical student upended a bowl of leeches and blood onto his coat as Combeferre stormed out of the Necker.

Wandering through Paris covered in bodily fluids did not do wonders for his social standing. The pretty, redheaded grisette he had been determinedly courting for some few weeks saw him, smiled, saw the state of his clothes, made a face and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a hello. It was discouraging, to say the least.

By the time, Combeferre returned to Enjolas’ cramped flat, he was exhausted and angry at the state of the universe. Deciding that he would do no good stomping around, he set to easing his wrath.

His own rooms at the Necker were being refurbished and Enjolras had kindly offered his apartment for the time being. It was a generous offer, and Combeferre truly enjoyed living with his closest friend. However, he was excited to think that until six, when Enjolras came back from class, he had the place to himself.

It was no small feat to drag several buckets of icy water up two flights of stairs. That was another thing _wrong_ with the day: Enjolras’ flighty landlady was gone. Combeferre found himself pouring his own bath, which was backbreaking, sweaty and furthermore, annoying.

By the time he stripped, threw his mangled coat in the laundry and sunk into the blissfully cool bathwater, Combeferre was officially In A Mood.

His thoughts turned to the medical student’s clumsiness (how _would_ he get the blood stains out?) to the grisette who had seemingly just rejected him. He quite liked her. When she smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkled pleasantly and her laugh was deep and robust.

Combeferre closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Taking his cock into his hand, he began to rub himself up and down, taking care to imagine auburn curls flying and the sweet smell of clean linen. He wondered, halfheartedly, if he could write a letter apologizing for his appearance. He’d have to ask Courfeyrac for advice; grand romantic gestures weren’t his forte.

Feeling his cock stiffen pleasantly, Combeferre increased the friction of his movements. The water of the bath and the pleasant smoothness of precum mixed in his hands. He thought of a corset, slowly being unthreaded and slipped off a thick, voluptuous form.

“Blondeau had _the nerve_ to ask me to leave class early _again_ because I argued with his tyrannical interpretations of— Combeferre?”

Enjolras’ voice echoed clearly and Combeferre sunk into the bath, heart racing and face reddening. He heard footsteps cross into the bedroom and realized, miserably, that his erection had not subsided. Far from it.

“I’m busy!” Combeferre snapped. It was a silly excuse but he couldn’t think straight, still being ravenously hungry and half the blood in his body still throbbing pleasantly in his cock. He had the uncomfortable sensation that Enjolras was standing directly behind him.

It was clearly just a terrible day.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras said quietly, suddenly sounding like a child.

“I’m bathing,” Combeferre muttered. Another silly excuse. They had seen each other in various states of nudity dozens of times, often conversing while one of them washed. Combeferre remembered that he had often observed the front of Enjolras’ nightshirt bulging in the early morning as he slid out of bed to make coffee. They were comfortable around each other and the various processes of their bodies. Combeferre supposed the awkwardness came from his hand, which until Enjolras had made his presence known, had been wrapped enthusiastically around his cock.

“I didn’t know you needed privacy,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre loved Enjolras deeply but at times like these he rather missed Courfeyrac, who would have vacated the premises long ago. Even Jehan, pixie-ish and vague, would have understood the situation and left.

And because Combeferre had had an awful day and his patience was thin and his balls burning, he lost his temper.

“Can’t you see that I’m clearly in the midst of an activity one usually performs _alone_?” Combeferre cried.

Enjolras walked to his bed and sat down slowly. 

“I didn’t know you… participated in such activities,” Enjolras said slowly.

“I’d prefer to return to them,” Combeferre said.

He really didn’t know how to be more blunt. His cock was red and throbbing and he ached to release himself.

“You may continue. I confess, I’ve never… understood these matters and I’d appreciate a chance to observe you. For the purposes of learning,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre ignored him and instead reached into the tepid water and grabbed himself, continuing enthusiastically where he left off. He was too fucking hard to care about his friend's ridiculous request and focused on finishing himself as quickly as possible. Combeferre often enjoyed jerking himself off over a period of some time, languishing luxuriously in his erection. Today, he was miserable and overexcited and just wanted to be done.

It was odd at first having Enjolras sitting on his neatly made bed, coolly watching like it was a lecture at the Sorbonne. Combeferre found all visions of the redhead fled from his mind, but instead of loosing his zeal, he was more aroused than ever.

He felt himself getting lost in the rush of feelings, gasping for air. He came quickly, gloriously, the stress of the day flowing out of him with the semen. It took a long time for him to regain his thoughts.

“May I ask a question?” Enjolras said.

Combeferre slowly turned to face him. Any malice he felt earlier was gone. He felt a rush of affection for his closest friend, even if Enjolras had no concept of personal space.

“Of course.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

It was such a simple, obvious question that Combeferre couldn’t help but laugh. Far from being offended, Enjolras laughed along.

“I’m sorry if I seem childish. I have so little experience with matters of the flesh and I believed you the same,” Enjolras said after their chortles died down.

Combeferre leaned his head against the cool metal of the tub.

“No, my friend, I do enjoy it, perhaps more frequently than I should. Though, to be fair, some doctors argue there are medical benefits to... expressing one's desires.”

Enjolras frowned deeply.

“Ought I then?”

Combeferre grabbed the bar of soap, forgotten on the floor and began lathering his calloused feet.

“If you wish. I would wager most young men, and many of the young women in Paris touch themselves this way. Still, there are many who believe the advice of the Church over the advice of their own bodies.”

“And what do you think?”

Images flashed through Combeferre’s mind: he was a child again, sitting on a wooden pew that made his arse sore and flipping through the leathery pages of his Bible. He was a clever child; able to read at a young age, and with few books to engage his interest, took whatever text he could find to heart.

“I rarely do as the Church tells me,” Combeferre said, now thinking not of his newly limp cock, but of the stash of bullets under his mattress.

“You’ve been most educational,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre laughed again.

“I’m glad I could be of service.”

 


End file.
